


Metanoia

by below_decent_villain



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/below_decent_villain/pseuds/below_decent_villain
Summary: Escaping the Winterfell is one thing, escaping Ramsay is another. Instead of returning to his sister Theon had another plan, to die and disappear so that Ramsay never touches him again.He almost succeeded...Rewriting what happens after Theon and Sansa are saved by Brienne of Tarth.





	1. Sorrow

Theon stumbled between the thick, dark tree trunks, needing to support himself on them as his legs were almost too heavy to lift. He’s so exhausted, wanting to give up and lay in the snow on the ground to drift away in endless sleep. But he couldn’t. That way Ramsay’s hounds would eventually find him and that is not something he was going to let happen. That monster wasn’t touching him ever again, Theon was making sure of that. It’s what he told himself to keep going. His body can’t be found as Ramsay would find some way to defile him even in death. To take this away from him Theon could make one last act of defiance. He had already done so much. The punishment, most likely ending in death, would be outdrawn for days maybe months. Theon preferred a quick death.

He could have chosen to live. Escape had been within his grasp. The Bolton men’s corpses had left a horse he could’ve taken. Followed Sansa to the wall, or gone home to the Iron Islands. To his sister. She had tried to save him he remembers and tears prickles his eyes. He hadn’t deserved to be saved but still she came and what had he done? Turned her away while pathetically hiding inside the kennel cage. Lives lost trying to save someone else’s which was barely worth more than a dog’s. No, he could not return.

Dragging his feet in the snow the they left clear long marks of unraveled earth beneath it. He made an easy prey leaving such clear tracks though as long as Ramsay wasn’t right behind him it didn’t matter. For a quick moment he rested against a stump that he was making his way around. There was no sound except Theon’s hitched breathing, no hooves or barking echoing between the trees. Holding his breath for a minute he sharpened his ears careful to pick up footsteps or the distant rumbling of horses. An eerie silence was all that fell upon him and he let out a coarse sigh. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted, like something was out there. The forest hosted many dangers, though he knew what would get to him first. Sweat was dripping from his face but soon the cold crept upon him like an icy blanket. He needed to move.

His destinations wasn’t far away now, he heard it, the slow purling of freezing water. The river he and Sansa had crossed not long ago. The water was dark, nearly black and he could feel its surge sucking him in even from where he was standing in the clearing. Where he and Sansa had waded across the stream had been very weak. Now he needed a strong current that could claim him. From down the river a roar made its way to where he was standing. 

Heavy bodies of water threw itself down the fall, thrashing, creating a thundering sound. This was the kind of thing he had been looking for. He knew that when anyone ever fell into these kinds of rivers they would never be found again, or washed up mangled somewhere far, far away. Theon watched it while he imagined his body helplessly being taken away by the rapid getting crushed on rocks and debris.

A fitting death for an Ironborn. Though he doubted that he would join the Drowned God in his watery halls. He wasn’t Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands anymore. Not worthy of that name. Not worthy of any titles. Not a man. Nothing but a creature looming over his impending doom. With tired eyes he gazed beneath him where he stood on a rock extended over the waterfall.

How would it feel to finally die he wondered. After all those times Ramsay had brought him so close to death’s doorstep but cruelly dragged him back. How his body had fought all the abuse to keep him alive while his mind tried everything to just let go. And his master who’d without fail be there when he woke up after he’d blissfully fainted to remind him he was still alive. Forced food and water down his throat when he made futile attempts to starve to death. Cut deeper when his limbs numbed out. 

He hated how vulnerable the human body was to pain but how long it could survive it. People easily hurt but they could withstand an incredible amount of pain. A fucking curse it was Theon thought as his chest burst with all of the emotions his memories brought up. He angrily tried to claw them out not wanting to feel anything. They remained and finally after holding it up for so long his composure crackled. His face contorted into an ugly mess as he started to cry. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his breathing stopped. All at once his body gave out and he sank onto his knees clutching hands to his chest. Violently he shook as painful agony ravaged his frail body still not breathing. Before he almost choked to death his emotions slipped out as a broken wail which tore itself from his throat. Following the scream came erratic sobbing. He turned into himself and lay his forehead on the hard surface of the rock to try and calm himself down. Stars were dancing behind his eyelids. He really felt like he was going to die right then. Never had he felt something as intense. Not even the most severe pain he’d ever have to endure compared to the flurry inside him. Everytime Ramsay started a new torture session he thought it couldn’t be worse than last time. Everytime he was wrong. But none of Ramsay’s flaying, dismembering or beatings conquered this. Theon gasped rapidly. His surroundings pushed against him, the roar of the waterfall grew louder for every second that passed. He clasped his sides and wished for everything to stop. For a moment he became weightless. Maybe he fell off the cliff. Theon squeezed his eyes shut and put his arms around his head. He spun around and around for what felt like an eternity.

The spinning eventually stopped. Slowly, very slowly his breathing returned to normal. He was dazed from the lack of air when he put his head up again. Steadily his body rested on the rock. 

Sucking in cold air in his lungs he put back his head and let snowflakes land upon his face. They melted on his hot skin, a refreshing feeling. Whatever had taken over his body was gone and had left a hollowness in him. A final act as a living thing. Now all he was, was an empty shell ready to be disposed. 

On trembling legs he rose while shedding an invisible skin that was Theon and Reek and Ramsay. He stepped out of it and onto the edge of the rock. Looking down on his feet he saw the river gushing out under him wild and untamed. One step and he’d fall into it. He focused on his shoes. The material they were made of had seen better days, as had he. A dark splotch stained the worn leather. Blood probably. Whose it was he didn’t know. It could be one of Ramsay’s men’s or one of his old wounds that had opened up. However he didn’t feel any pain. He didn’t feel anything at all.

The last couple of months he had seen a terrible lot of blood. Spilled from him, from soldiers, from innocents, from girls who happened to be pretty. His master had loved it. Especially when it came from Reek. His beloved pet. Reek was special to him, not like any other. So his master told him many times. Reek was a loyal pet, trained into perfect submission, who’d never betray his master. At least until Ramsay had found a new toy to break. Someone who Reek had known in another life. Then Reek couldn’t be loyal anymore no matter how he’d try. He wouldn’t watch anyone else suffer Ramsay’s brutal treatment. Thus he’d killed his master’s lover and stolen his new toy from right under his nose. In a way also weakened his position in the north. Master would be beyond furious. Then it was fortunate that Reek didn’t exist anymore and there wouldn’t be a trace of him left.

He didn’t need to imagine Ramsay’s face it was right there before him twisted in rage. Ramsay’s face that he needn’t ever see again. His sharp features and piercing grey eyes that had unbelievably enough looked at him fondly at times. Those rare times Ramsay didn’t want to hurt him, but to admire his work. It was at least what Theon had thought it was because Ramsay had been hard to read during those moments. Reek would receive gentle pets with lingering fingertips. Soft strokes down his hair that through the fear of being hit at any second felt nice. Something stirred inside him. Sadness. No, why… He attempted to return to his unemotional state by staring at the flowing water until his vision turned blurry. He blinked the blurriness away and took a shivering breath. It is time, he thought.

Theon closed his eyes and lifted his arms out slightly from his side. A chilly gust of wind swept around him like a hug as if it was death’s cold embrace. He took it as a sign and stepped forward.

 

 

 

 

Falling he let go of all his senses waiting to be drawn in and taken away by the river.  
He was surprised when the water hit him in the back, punching the air out of him. It didn’t make sense and nothing was as he expected it to be. No icy water sending needles of pain through his skin. No tumbling around and no crashing against rocks. Involuntarily he gasped but no water filled his lungs. Barely having time to open his eyes and figure out what happened he caught a glimpse of a black mass above him.  
Then suddenly the world ceased to exist.


	2. Animal Impulses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone that left comments and kudos, I appreciate it a lot!!  
> Secondly English is not my first language and I struggle with expressions and stuff but I hope you guys can enjoy my writing anyhow

His head was bobbing up and down while his body swayed from side to side. It was a rhythmic and soothing motion. Several minutes passed without Theon letting anything but the rocking of his body continue. It was too comforting for him to want to wake up. He was out on the open ocean, standing on the deck of one of a ship while it brushed along the steady waves. Gulls shrieked their shrill laughs but to him it was music to his ears. Salty seawater splattered over the rail and drenched his clothes though he couldn’t care less for Theon felt at peace like never before. He had no memory of how he got here or where he was going but that wasn’t particularly important at the moment. The sea was calm and he felt nostalgic for some reason and something tugged at the edge of his mind but was out of reach. Some sort of constant noise that buzzed at the back of his head. Flashbacks started running through his head every now and then but they were difficult to decipher. A waterfall, he recalled. Cold and sadness. A figure standing over him. Dying. 

Was he dead? The tranquil sea turned foul in an instant, stormy clouds gathered over his head and strong winds enraged waves that tore into the boat tilting it over. Theon lost his balance. He stumbled, tripped over the rail and with a loud splash fell into the water and sank into abyssal darkness. Silence enveloped him like a blanket and it started to feel like it suffocated him, he attempted to swim but his arms wouldn’t move. In the distance thin rays of light broke through the blackness and grew stronger and stronger till all he saw was white.

Even if his eyes were closed he knew the trees were still around him. He felt the snowflakes fall through the air, dance around him. He was back in the forest, away from the river since it could not be heard anymore. He began to take in all his senses and he discovered he sat on a horse’s back. The saddle was uncomfortable since he sat unusually far up on it and he was about to shift position when he felt someone behind him with their arms wrapped around his sides. Peeking through a slit of his eyelids he saw a pair of hands gripping the reins so hard they were white as the snow covering the ground. Uneasiness crept upon him. He wasn’t dead and that was bad. Extremely bad something told him.

The breath of the person behind him caressed his right ear leaving it damp. Had they saved him? Perhaps someone had seen him try to take his own life and gone out of their way to stop him. They shouldn’t have done that, there was no saving him. A dull pain in his temple interrupted his thoughts. Warmth oozed down the side of his face. No, he had been captured. Anxiety built up his core.

The monster was right behind him. Like in a nightmare. Theon wanted at once to scream out loud on the top of his lungs. Scream for mercy to all the Gods, to any God, so that he could be reprieved from this kind of fate. Hadn’t he payed for his evildoings by now, hadn’t he got what he deserved? He had tried to disappear, why was there a punishment for that? A small whimper slipped past his lips.

“Are you awake,Reek?”

At the sound of his masters voice Theon violently pushed up the arms around him. His limbs acted all on their own, his mind blank. Both of them fell of the horse by his sudden action and in a pile they landed besides its hooves. Scrambling quickly Theon made it with near inhuman speed onto his feet. Adrenaline shot through his body and like he had been launched from a catapult Theon hurled forward. Hurriedly limping his way forth Theon’s eyes rapidly scanned the terrain. Where could he run? An endlessness prickled with oaks, ash and pines splayed out before him, vast and empty as the sea he had visited in his dream. All sense of orientation was lost to him. He didn’t know what direction the river was, or what way Winterfell or Castle Black were. Frantically like a scared doe he hobbled a few steps, fear overcoming the control of his legs. He heard Ramsay scuffle behind his back and desperation grew within him.

“REEK!” Ramsay’s voice was like a crack of a whip that ripped the air in half.

Theon screamed. He wasn’t fast enough Ramsay would catch him and he wouldn’t have got very far. The horse that had already been startled once became panicked by Ramsay’s outburst and kicked. Ramsay fell flat in the snow. Theon saw his chance and his legs magically worked again. The fear was so intense the pain from his wounds didn’t bother him like it used to when he had ran. After Ramsay had both cut and flayed some of his toes usually every step he took hurt. Now he flew through the air faster than ever and jumped over fallen trees and ducked under branches. He passed a pine before taking cover behind it to peer between the needles, completely winded. There was no sign of movement except for some heavy snow that fell of a branch a couple of yards away. Theon exhaled and moved on. It seemed like he had put quite some distance between him and Ramsay, although his master would soon be right in his tracks again. The snow creaked under his boots and he wanted to shush it. Several times he stopped to look and listen to his surrounding while holding his breath. Most often nothing could be heard but some snow falling to the ground with a muffled thump. Flares of hope ignited inside him despite his attempts to suppress them. Whenever Theon had thought he escaped Ramsay and was finally free from his sadistic tyranny, his master had everytime, without fail, caught him just when he believed freedom was within reach. It was all just a game to him, a play he had written scene by scene and he controlled its execution, part by part. Theon was never going anywhere and the play would finish with an unhappy ending with Theon back where he started. 

Though, this time was different, Ramsay was not in control. Sansa was successfully on her way to reunite with her half-brother Jon Snow, who was now the commander of the Night’s Watch, where she would be safe from him. Myranda his lover was dead with her skull cracked open on the stone in Winterfell. Theon did not believe Ramsay would ever let that happen unless it came with some sort of benefit. The marriage with Sansa had fortified his hold of the North and without her it had weakened. Jon Snow was his enemy and together the siblings would be stronger, posing a threat against Ramsay’s claim. Myranda had been the kennel master’s daughter and of no greater importance at all. Her death meant nothing. If Ramsay wanted her killed he’d do it himself for his own amusement. Make it a sport like he did with the other girls. On top of that he seemed particularly fond of her unlike his former servants. Theon could see no possibility that this was an elaborate ruse. Raggedly drawing a breath he supported himself on his knees while the last of the adrenaline seeped out of him. Forcing himself to carry on he recalled how the horse had sprinted away leaving Ramsay motionless in the snow. It must have knocked him unconscious, Theon had a chance.  
There was no sound that indicated Ramsay was chasing him. 

Without warning an intense force threw him off to the side. Theon collided with a tree and dropped to its roots. Ramsay was upon him the split second he touched the ground. He pushed him into the stem and the rugged bark scraped Theon’s back where his rags slid up. Quivering he averted his gaze from Ramsay who put his face very close to Theon’s.

“Where the FUCK do you think you’re going?” Ramsay hissed squeezing the shoulders he held in his grip.  
“Huh, Reek?!” He tugged and shoved poor Theon harder against the tree.  
“ANSWER ME!” he roared and backhanded him when he didn’t respond.

Theon’s head flung to the side and he turned still. Hanging on the edge of consciousness he wanted to sink down through the earth. Please take me back to the dream with the ship, he thought.

“No, no, no you’re staying with me, Reek” he heard Ramsay coo and a hand closed firmly around Theon’s jaw. Ramsay turned his head so that they were eye to eye. Theon shut his eyes to avoid the other’s.  
Cold metal was placed against his throat. He swallowed. 

“Open them.” Ramsay said sternly, pressing the blade into Theon’s skin. Unwillingly Theon did so. 

Two pale, colorless eyes met his. Ramsay smiled without a trace of warmth, he had the same bestial aura as a wolf preparing to attack. Rugged fur, bared teeth and ready to bite. The hairs on his arms rose. Trapped prey, Theon thought. He was at the mercy of a vicious predator.

“I want you to look me in the eye, and tell me, why you’ve betrayed your master” Ramsay said slowly as if talking to a half-wit.

Theon remained silent because he couldn’t drive himself to open his mouth and speak. Impatiently Ramsay put his knifeless hand in Theon’s hair and laced his fingers in the brown curls before gripping tightly. He yelped and Ramsay put pressure on the knife till he drew blood that trickled down his neck. It didn’t compel Theon to speak the least, somehow the threat of the knife didn’t inspire his tongue to move at all. He was scared for sure he wouldn’t deny that but the knife was rather forgettable when staring down lord Bolton’s face. Last time he had seen it, it had been radiating with content from everything the Bolton’s had achieved lately. His stomach turned like angry snakes, coiling themselves and pushing up bile in his throat. Truly disgusting things had taken place for that look to display on Ramsay’s features, writing at his desk with a small smile on his lips. Thoughts of Sansa’s bruised body occupied his mind, as well as the men at Moat Cailin and their newly flayed bodies steaming out in the open. They thought they had been let go only to end up dog food, disturbing decorations or rotting in a mass grave with no honor to their name. Theon thought of all those things and he decided what he had done was the right thing. Evil had taken place, Theon undid some of it. Just a small amount, but if he could do anything at all to fight it he would. For the first time he had opposed his lord since he became Reek. It had taken a lot for him to break free of being his master’s loyal pet.

“M-master…hurt people…”

Ramsay drew back a bit and raised his eyebrows before he let out a chuckle.  
“Reek, you stupid little freak, I hurt people all the time. Sometimes because I have to, sometimes because I want to”

 

“You shouldn’t care about that. A good pet doesn’t care about anything but his master, and following his orders. I trained you to be a good pet, didn’t I?”

“You killed those men...you hurt Lady Sansa...you..you” he couldn’t say the last thing without the memory of that night in the bedchambers overwhelming him. Sansa’s screams made tears stream down his cheeks. The whole time Ramsay looked at him boredly and when Theon sobbed he rolled his eyes.

“I treated you well Reek, better than anyone else. Nothing I do should ever overcome your gratitude for my care” he played with the knife in Theon’s face. Dragging it along his jaw, over his lips and nose, stroking it right under his eyeball.

“Yet you repay me by killing someone I held dear, taking something that belonged to me and ruined everything I’ve worked so hard for” his master’s face darkened with every word but he took back his blade and instead spun it in his fingers. He suddenly cupped Theon’s face with one of his hands, brushing his thumb against his cheek which could be mistaken for affection. But Ramsay Bolton never showed affection.

He spoke with a mismatched calm to his words.  
“I want to cut every inch of your skin till you have none left and let the crows pick on you while you still live. I want to cut up your stomach and let the dogs feast on your guts while you scream” A mix of restraint anger and something else shifted in his expression, the bestial aura was back. Typically he’d talk with a tinge of playfulness, he rejoiced in making his plans of torture known to his victims and gleefully watch as fear struck them but there was nothing of his usual tone. Ramsay was out for revenge. He dug his claws into Theon who was paralyzed.

“I want you to feel every last bit of pain that you have caused me” Sadness hid in his words and he relaxed his fingers.  
“But I won’t do any of that. do you want to know why?”

Ramsay straightened himself and looked him right in the eyes with his cold gaze.

“Because you are all that I have left”

It was too much for Theon to handle, all the color in his face drained and he wanted to die. He started weeping and whined under his breath while he hung his head low. No, no, no he’d rather be flayed alive than go back to his master’s side. He couldn’t think of anything worse than that. 

“There, there little one” his chin was tilted upwards when Ramsay put his fingers under it. Through swollen eyelids he saw his master’s sly smile and he wanted to throw up.

“NO!” he screamed and pushed Ramsay off of him. With his right arm he threw a punch that hit his master square on the nose. A jolt of pain traveled to his shoulders from his knuckles that had been split open. He made it onto his feet before Ramsay kicked his legs while he held a hand over his bloody nasal bone. He fell hard to the ground and Ramsay got up, grabbed his knife and set after him.

He clasped at Theon’s rags and found the collar and he pulled it back. The cloth choked him and he coughed sharply. To no avail he tried to crawl away but all he did was catch snow and dirt under his nails. Ramsay settled over his hips keeping him in place. He became stuck like a mouse in a trap. Theon buried his face between his outstretched arms tasting earth in his mouth and stopped moving.

“There,there…” the weight over him shifted slightly and Ramsay petted his back. Fuck it, fuck it all. Every attempt failed, he should’ve known not to try in the first place. Why did he never learn that he dug deeper into his own grave in which Ramsay would put him piece by piece. Theon Greyjoy already laid there, a rotting corpse, and for every part his master took from him Reek would join the Ironborn. Theon couldn’t stand the thought of it. His life was a death sentence, a life-long execution. 

“Kill me…” the words didn’t quite take form, they left his mouth like a ghostly sound. So quiet it’d be incredible if someone heard them. 

“Kill you?” Ramsay asked. 

Begging for death. Theon had done it before and he remembered Ramsay’s answer. “You’re no good to me dead” Right before he made Theon the scared, pathetic creature Reek, it was burnt into his memory. Day and night those words had echoed in his head, become like a chant that constantly reminded him why he suffered. 

Ramsay sighed audibly, he sounded annoyed. A long pause followed that made Theon wonder what Ramsay was thinking. He was so unpredictable that the long pause made Theon nervous. Was he actually considering it or was he thinking of which finger to cut off first. 

“Perhaps I should...You have become a mad dog, Reek, and mad dogs get put down.” Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the blade glint in the light. Ramsay placed it below his adam’s apple gently. Theon swallowed.

The knife was on the edge of cutting through and slice the artery that laid beneath it. Like when one poured to much water in a cup and it raised ever so slightly over the rim, a moment away from spilling over . Ramsay held it there without moving. Theon braced himself. Seconds passed with extreme sluggishness as if time was stalling what would happen next. Why wasn’t he doing it already? Was he toying with Theon? Ofcourse, one wouldn’t need to ask. He’d probably draw it out, and when he finally decided it was time he’d drag the knife slowly to extend his suffering. To bleed Theon out for as long as he was able to. The knife started shaking.

“R-” Theon was just about to say something when the knife broke through. A burning sensations spread across his neck and his eyes widened. Cold and warmth was unleashed at the same time in his body and it felt like his spirit left him. 

Ramsay turned him over, he would want to see it. Want to see life leave the creature he’d slaughtered. Expecting to see a smile on his face, pure enjoyment of his pet choking on his own blood, Theon was shocked when Ramsay revealed nothing more than an emotionless mask. 

“You’re part of me now” Ramsay fingered Theon’s wound where he had swept the knife across and his fingertips turned red with tiny droplets of blood. The knife had barely rasped him deeper than the thorn of a bush.


	3. Insomnia

Light flowed in stripes through the closed window and thousands of dust particles floated in its rays. It had been barred with planks in a tight row thus making the room dark and stuffy. In the corner a man clad in a thin apparel hunched lonely, head resting between two bony knees. He hadn’t moved from his place in hours. Didn’t care that his whole body ached from keeping the same position for all this time.

The door burst open, a tray abruptly slid in and with an ear-piercing jangle of metal against wood it bumped into the table leg that was in front of Theon. A fresh piece of bread rolled to his naked feet.  
“Eat or I’ll stuff you till you choke” a harsh voice warned, and the door was slammed closed with such force it sent tremors through the stony walls. Theon’s weak fingers, the ones he had left, picked up the bread piece, put it to his mouth and he bit down. Crumbs spilled down his new scraps and scattered to the floor. His eyes fixed on the bed across the room, but he quickly averted them so as not to lose his appetite. “ _Don’t think._ ” The bread made his mouth dry and on the tray, there was a bottle of water. He took a sip and then continued chewing on what he assumed was his breakfast. It was hard telling the time when there was no way to look outside, sun and stars hidden behind a wooden blockade. The small spots of light on the floor told him it was daytime, whether it was morning or afternoon was beyond his knowledge. He swallowed the bread then ate a taut strip of old, dried meat that tasted nothing but salt and finished the meal by chugging the last of the water. A week ago he would’ve thrown himself upon such a treat, now he only ate because if not it’d be forced down his throat.

Once done he placed the bottle back on the tray and pushed it away from him and wiped the crumbs off his new clothes, a white undershirt and a pair of dark breeches, before hugging them tighter. The wound on his temple began throbbing lightly. Carefully he stroked the bandage. He continued to touch it for some time, like he was trying to pat away the unaccustomed feel it gave him. Someone had swathed it with care, probably a maester. “ _A maester_ ”, he thought. Rarely Theon was allowed the privilege of a maester, and when Theon was visited by a robed man with a link of chains around his neck it was both a blessing and a curse. His pain was eased but only so he could live to face it again. A maester was called to keep death at bay when Ramsay inevitably went overboard vandalizing poor Reek’s body. Most of his injuries he got to treat himself, with whatever resources he could find, or he was forbidden to. Then again most of them were no direct threat to his life. 

 

He couldn’t recall how he got put in the room that was now his awful prison. After Ramsay had drawn the blade across his neck, of which the sting Theon still remembered vividly, his mind had become hazed. Truly, he’d thought that he had finally been killed, only he hadn’t. Instead of opening his throat in a wide red smile, his master had kissed it so gently with the knife the small cut had already healed by now. Theon didn’t understand the things that happened thereafter. Staring up at his master, Ramsay had uttered words Theon didn’t think possible of such a man. They felt as though he had dreamed them, the memory blurred. Same thing with the journey back to Winterfell. He faintly recalled being dragged through the snow.

He hadn’t known where he was when his mind cleared up, hadn’t recognized it until he saw the bed. Theon would sooner be in the dirty kennel cages lying on a rancid, coarse mattress of straw where the cold bit him like a dog. Instead he was forced to accompany the dreadful memory of one of the worst nights in his life. “ _Don’t think._ “

Pulling up his legs to rest his head against them he cut off the outside world with a little game of his own. Counting seconds till they turned to minutes to hours was an old habit he’d picked up during those times he was stowed away like a toy a child grown tired of. One little trick he had come up with to keep his impending insanity from taking hold of him. Counting he could concentrate on the darkness behind is eyelids and it was comforting now as long as he dwelled in it and nothing else. Theon counted until the moment he fell asleep and time didn’t matter anymore. 

When he woke up it didn’t feel like had more than blinked but the pitch-black room told him otherwise. In crude motions he untangled his aching, stiff arms and legs to stretch before settling again. Now awake again he wished only to fall asleep once more. Theon nestled up to the wall in a bundle and tried to slip into sleep one more time, but he came out unsuccessful. No matter how he shifted his position he couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep. His skin felt itchy and hot as if there were tiny creatures crawling under it. He sat up. 

Yet again he had no idea what time it was, but the castle was dead quiet and the darkness thick and intrusive. It felt like the walls had crept closer, cornering him. The darkness suddenly didn’t feel that comforting anymore. There was something else too. A presence of something malignant that was out to get him. As if the very night had materialized into its own being and came to consume him. It was folly he knew but the feeling held fast. Theon didn’t feel alone even though he knew he was. 

Out of the blue, an unexpected nostalgia washed over Theon. The hour of the wolf. Theon had once heard Old Nan talk about it a long time ago in the very same castle he was imprisoned in now. “Blackest part of the night, right before dawn when the demons are at their strongest and the nightmares closest to becoming real. The hour the sleepless fear the most. “she’d told him one long winter night, when Theon had first arrived at Winterfell as a ward. 

Back then he had too felt like a prisoner despite being treated well, despite the freedom he had. How ironic. Such a naive, arrogant fool he had been, having no idea what real captivity was. Theon had scoffed at Old Nan’s stories, especially those she meant to be scary. As if nighttime was something to fear. Demons and nightmares? What nonsense. “Keep them stories to yourself, old hag” he’d said. Theon closed his fists tight around his clothes, it hurt to think back on the person he had been, of the memories of the other life he had lived in Winterfell. Old Nan was dead now his mind hauntedly reminded him, and he was to blame. She’d been old, oldest of all, but she still went prematurely, and not peacefully. The rest of Winterfell’s citizens had shared her fate, all murdered in the end. It wasn’t his intention when he seized the castle, by the Gods he’d tried to spare them, but he failed to prevent it. Due to his damned arrogance. Huddling in the corner Theon bit his lip hard while constraining the tears in his eyes, crying never helped. The dark walls closed in further, compressing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He wanted to go back to sleep knowing very well it’d be impossible. “ _The old wench was right about this wretched hour_ ”, he thought. 

A creak sounded from somewhere in the room and Theon’s head shot up. He darted his eyes across the room searching for what had emitted the sound. It took some time before he could discern anything in the black room but within minutes he could make out a shadowy figure on the bed and Theon clenched his whole body at the sight. He knew exactly who it was.

The rasp of someone lighting a match whispered in the room before a small light shone upon Ramsay’s face. He brought the match to a lantern beside the bed and a dim orange light illuminated the bed chamber. Gently Ramsay blew out the match before placing it on the nightstand. Theon followed his moves, anxiously waiting on the next. Ramsay however didn’t so much as look at him, nor acknowledge him in any manner but simply sat immobile on the bed. Theon could sense there was much going on behind his cool facade and wanted to crawl towards Ramsay’s boots to ask his master what was wrong like he had used to at times like these. Times when Ramsay was so frustrated he didn’t know what to do, normally after talks with his fathers, Reek would scramble to his feet offering help to get him into a better mood. Many times, it worked, leaving Reek bruised, beaten and bloody, and Ramsay would be happier. One might wonder why he would do such a thing to himself, but Reek was a devoted servant and he would be concerned if his master was dissatisfied. If he wasn’t, Ramsay angrily asked him if he even cared about his master’s wellbeing, then hurt him worse than if Reek did not willingly submit himself. Theon figured it would hardly matter now if he did either.

The air stood still, maybe even the whole world. Nevertheless, the small glittering flame played in the lantern and cast dancing shadows over the young lord’s motionless guise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, I finally finished this chapter but it took forever because life got in the way _sigh_
> 
> This was a difficult one to write since I have no reference of what sounds good and what sounds cheesy, all I have is my own judgement which doesn't really help at all...and I'm a perfectionist so I rewrite all the time ugh. As always though constructive criticism and feedback is always welcome! 
> 
> There are some things I want to explain as well:  
> Old Nan is mentioned in this chapter and I think her fate is never told in neither the books nor the tv series so I took the liberty to write it as I imagine it. As it's at least said she was taken to the Dreadfort I figured she was killed by the Boltons :/   
> Then there is the hour of the wolf, something my grandma used to tell me about when I was a child and it really scared me (I was afraid of wolves and woke up during the night a lot). Just kind of wanted to use it in this story... I didn't know if it was a universal thing or not so I looked it up and to my surprise I found it's even a concept in the GoT universe! The quote that Old Nan says is a half-assed paraphrase of an Ingmar Bergman quote (he made a movie called Vargtimmen/ Hour of the wolf). The more you know!  
> Lastly, this work is named after an IAMX album, and all the chapters are named after songs because I'm not that creative with titles haha but also because they make music that gets me real inspired when I write.  
> Ok anyways thank you for bearing with me and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic and this is what I write...  
> Anyways, any feedback is welcome since I'm not actually a writer, only someone who need to let out a lot of feelings for this pairing.


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